


Out in the Open

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fluff, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-07
Updated: 2007-03-07
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: You know he loves you, and you know why he holds back.Can Hermione make Ron see that they have no reason to to bejustfriends?





	Out in the Open

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Originally written for the Ron/Hermione MovieQuote! Fic Challenge at Checkmated  


* * *

_A/N: Many, many thanks to my friend and beta, **belovedranger** , not only for the incredible beta work, but for always being so encouraging.  
_  
***  
  
Prompt: **“It seems right now that all I’ve ever done in my life is making my way here to you.”** – Bridges of Madison County  
  
  
 **Out in the Open**   
  
“Any progress?” you ask Healer Litcott as you run into him in the hallway of the fourth floor of St. Mungos.  
  
He shakes his head. “Not today.”  
  
You notice a small hint of defeat in his voice, and you won’t have it. “Do you at _least_ have an inkling as to how to restore his memory?”  
  
“Ms. Granger, we’re trying to find a permanent solution but we can’t be rushed.”  
  
Your patience has a limit and it’s about to end. You grind your teeth, ready to demand more. “There’s got-”  
  
“Hermione, please, dear,” you hear Arthur Weasley call out as he puts a calming hand on your shoulder.  
  
Healer Litcott gives you both a placating smile. “We’re doing our best. We really are.”  
  
“We know,” Mr. Weasley mumbles, and you see Healer Litcott walk away, relieved.  
  
“I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I’m just so frustrated. It’s been so long and…” You drop your hands to your sides helplessly. “…nothing.”  
  
“He recognized Molly when she was here last night. That’s progress.”  
  
You shrug your shoulders. “I guess, but just now he didn’t even know where he was.”   
  
You see Mr. Weasley take off his glasses and rub his eyes tiredly, and you look over your shoulder hoping to spot another familiar red-head. “Mr. Weasley, did you come here by yourself?”  
  
He pats your arm warmly. “No, Ginny is sitting in with Harry.” He then gives you a small smile. “Ron will be over later. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.”  
  
You can’t help but blush a little. Is it _that_ obvious that you were asking for Ron?  
  
“Ron is really lucky to have you at his side, Hermione. If it weren’t for you, he would have taken Harry’s condition much harder.” He leans into you as if about to tell you something just meant for you to hear. “It’s because of _you_ he goes on. It’s because of _you_ he shows his strength and goes on,” he finishes with a small smile.  
  
You really don’t know what to say. This isn’t the type of conversation you normally have with Mr. Weasley. Usually, all he asks are Muggle related questions. Now, even his tone is different. He sounds serious, yet caring and re-assuring. You meet his gaze and find him looking at you intently, almost as if studying your reaction.  
  
“Give him time, Hermione, he’ll come around. He cares about you too much not to.”  
  
You swallow hard, wondering what would make Mr. Weasley say all this. Has Ron been talking to him about the two of you, about his feelings for you?   
  
“You think so?” you ask in a timid whisper.  
  
“I’m certain. I know my boys; I know where Ron’s heart lies, and that’s with you.”  
  
A surge of hidden optimism rises in you. “Thank you,” is all you manage to say.  
  
“Well, I’d better go and find Ginny. I must get back to the Ministry.”  
  
You nod and wave goodbye. You smile, thinking what a wonderful family the Weasleys are, and how lucky you are to be so close to them.  
  
***  
  
You don’t really know how long you’ve been sitting in the hard, cold chairs of the visiting room, but it must have been at least a couple of hours. Your neck feels stiff as you turn your head to greet Ron, who’s just sat down next to you.  
  
“Hey,” he says casually, giving you a knee-weakening smile.  
  
“Hi, Ron,” you say almost breathlessly. You can’t believe how little it takes for him to take your breath away. It must be that wholesome smell, or the depth of his mesmerizing blue eyes, or-  
  
“How’s he doing?”  
  
You blink and look away. “Not well. Doesn’t even remember much today.” There is a knot in your throat. You wish you had better news to share with Ron.  
  
“What about Litcott? What the hell is he doing”?  
  
You shrug your shoulders. “Litcott says that they’re working on a solution, but they can’t be rushed.”  
  
“Bloody idiot. He says that because it’s not _his_ best mate in that room with no memories, with no idea of who he is.”  
  
“Ron…” you admonish him, but there’s a part of you that feels the same way. If you were a Healer, you wouldn’t rest until you found a way to restore Harry’s memory for good. “You want to sit with him a bit?”  
  
He averts his eyes. “Not really… I stopped in just now. He looks, I don’t know, so lost. I can’t stand it when he looks at _us_ as if we’re strangers. Our best mate, Hermione, for seven years and… damn it! His fist connects with his leg and you place your hand over it stopping his movement.  
  
You understand his frustration better than anyone; it’s exactly how you feel. “He’s going to get better, Ron. He has to.”  
  
“But, when?”  
  
You wish you had a concrete answer, but you don’t. “Wish I knew.”  
  
“Mum started to collect pictures last night, you know of him over the years. She thinks it might help him remember if he can see his life through pictures. Do you have any?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sure I do. I’ll dig them out tonight,” you say with anticipation. At least, this is something you _can_ do, something not to feel so helpless.  
  
You two fall into a comfortable silence. He leans back and puts his arm around your shoulders. It’s such a natural gesture now, but it’s something you’ve only grown accustomed to recently. You let out a small, almost inaudible sigh. It’s small moments like this one that you cherish. You’re almost afraid to move, not wanting to break the spell.  
  
You crave this type of closeness with Ron, and it thrills you that moments like this one are no longer uncomfortable between you two. You very well know that you two are treading a fine line between friends and more. You desperately want to cross it, but you don’t want to push him. You want him to come to you on his own, when he’s ready. You understand it’s something he’s got to do, but you’ve never been very good at waiting. And you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to wait.  
  
Having this closeness only serves to remind you how much you love him, how much you want him. You wish you didn’t have to stop yourself from snuggling in close inhaling his scent, or from squeezing his thigh in a comforting manner. You wish you could freely run your hands through his fiery hair, trace his lips with your fingers.  
  
Stop, you remind yourself. It’s neither the time nor the place.   
  
It’s not easy. Not when you feel his finger tracing small circles on your shoulder. You close your eyes tight, relishing the feeling of that bit of intimacy that you want to hold on to.  
  
“If that curse had hit me, I would remember _you_ , Mione,” Ron says out of the blue.  
  
It startles you to hear his voice laced with vulnerability. It’s not like Ron to say such things, and you’re not sure what he means. You have to be sensible. “Nonsense, of course you would forget everything. That’s some powerful Dark Magic.”  
  
“No. You’re unforgettable. I _would_ remember _you_. When you lo-, er, when care for someone like I care for you…” he gulps, “… nothing can make you forget.”  
  
“Oh.” Under his meaningful stare your heart swells in anticipation, and you lick your lips expectantly. This time you can’t mistake his meaning, you don’t want to, and even against reason you allow your hopes to rise.   
  
But the moment is gone all too quickly when looks away. “I’d be mad to forget you. If I did, I would never hear the end of it and you can be quite scary,” he says half-jokingly.  
  
Somehow you don’t find it amusing, but you still manage a tight smile. You’re disappointed at seeing another chance slip away. You _only_ got to witness another fleeting glance of what it could be.  
  
You get up and pick up your bag. “It’s getting late; I’d better get going.”  
  
“So soon?”  
  
“I’ve been here all morning, Ron.”  
  
“Right, let me walk you home.”  
  
You can’t really say no to him when he looks at you with that boyish grin. “All right.” You hold out your hand which he takes, giving it a small squeeze. It’s almost like he’s silently apologizing, asking for more time. Together you two leave St. Mungos as _just_ friends.  
  
***  
  
It usually happens around this time, minutes before Ron's arrival for his daily evening visit. Your heart starts beating a little faster, and the flutters in your belly decide to make an appearance. You wonder whether it’s in excitement, anticipation, or maybe even a little fear?   
  
When it comes to Ron all of those emotions are present, mixed in a blur of feelings that are hard to distinguish. And lately, you find yourself more anxious around him, wanting to ask for more but not sure how.  
  
You decide that you’d better tidy up. It's not that your flat is a mess, but looking around you realize that it could use a light dusting. Besides, if you keep yourself busy until _he_ gets here, you just might stop yourself from thinking too much.  
  
“ _Accio cleaning rag.”_ You wipe away the specks of dust that have accumulated on the coffee table and the wireless.   
  
You pick up the empty flower vase from a side table. “ _Aguamenti.”_ You re-fill it with fresh water. It might be nice to have some fresh flowers, you think as you search your memory for a particular spell. “ _Orchideous.”  
  
_ You stand back and look around for more to do. You put away the scattered books that are half-hidden behind the sofa cushions, and throw away some crumbled pieces of paper. But even as you move around, your mind stubbornly ends up wandering away.  
  
It always happens. You can't stop yourself from thinking. It truly is a fruitless effort. There are too many why's to figure out. And that’s enough for your mind to be swamped with images of the friends that mean so much to you. Sadly, not all those images are something to smile about.  
  
First, there is Harry who's _still_ hospitalized at St. Mungos nine weeks after bravely ending Voldemort's regime of terror and darkness. He's not well, and that's killing you and Ron; neither of you can stand seeing how life passes by him without him being aware of it.   
  
It's not easy to see your best friend, the one who became more like your brother, with his gaze unfocused, his mind blank, his future uncertain. His memory comes and goes, and the Healers don't seem to know why or how to cure it. Whenever his memory is back, it only lasts for a few minutes before he starts asking questions he should know the answers to.   
  
It’s frustrating, and you hate it. You hate not having a solution, not knowing how to help him. You can't, and you _won’t_ , accept that after all he's been through, he's now lost in a world where you can't fully reach him and drag him back. When he asks, "Who are you?" you do your best to hold back the tears that threaten to spill.   
  
Seven years of friendship, of innumerable meals together, of late-night homework sessions, of laughs and even fights, of good and bad memories all were destroyed by that blasted curse that was thrown his way seconds before Bellatrix Lestrange was captured by Kingsley’s team of Aurors. She had seen how Harry had defeated _her Lord,_ and in her deranged mind she’d thrown that nasty curse in pure vengeance. You cry yourself too sleep most nights, wondering when, if ever, Harry's memory will return to normal. When is he finally going to lead the normal, happy life he deserves?  
  
And then, there’s Ron and he always gives you _plenty_ to think about. It’s nothing new. Ron has been constantly on your mind, even before you were aware of it. That very first meeting when you noisily pointed out that he had dirt on his nose marked an invisible, dividing line in the air, a before and after in you… in _both_ of you, you want to believe. You weren’t aware of it, not back then, but that’s why you worked so hard to impress him those first months at Hogwarts, why you very much sought to make Ron and Harry want to be your friends.   
  
Years have gone by since that first meeting, and you certainly know that your life would have been thoroughly different if you hadn’t barged into that train compartment. How different? It’s something you’ve wondered at times, but you can never come up with an answer.   
  
You can’t seriously imagine your life any other way… without him, without them, in it. In these past seven years, Ron has grown to be an indispensable part of you. There have been laughs, rows, adventures, dangers, and all through it he easily won you over with his unwavering loyalty. He’s always on your mind, but more importantly he has an irreplaceable place in your heart.   
  
If only he’d let you in fully, let you take that risk that you so want to dive into. If only he wouldn’t back up when it seems inevitable for it to happen, then maybe you could finally claim him fully in every way you’ve dreamed.   
  
You let out a long sigh. When will it happen? You’ve been so close before, only to have him back up apologetically. You know he doesn’t mean to hurt you; he’s just not ready.   
  
With Ron there have been ups and downs, but all those shared experiences have brought you two closer together. At times, it seems, he knows you better than you know yourself. He can guess when you need one of his jokes to get rid of the tension, or when you’re so angry he’d better back away. And more recently he even knows when you just need a hug – his strong chest to lean on. In that same manner you know him better than he knows himself, and that’s why you know the reason he backs away.   
  
You know very well why he always puts a halt to those feelings you both have for each other. He gives you many different reasons, but they really are nothing more than excuses. You know the _real_ reason. He’s afraid.   
  
He’s afraid of the risk of loving, of giving in to that love and then, perhaps, losing it. He’s come to experience something similar not too long ago, when Ginny was injured the past year. Since then, there’s been this unspoken agreement to wait. The thing is you don’t know what you’re waiting for; when it will be the right time?  
  
What he doesn’t know, or doesn’t see, is that the risk that he’s so afraid of is already present. The feelings might not be out in the open, but they exist. He knows it, and you know it; you’re sure of them. The words might not have been said, but there have been gestures, touches, looks, actions, and half-said words that tell you he loves you. And you love him too; there is no doubt about it. And for a long time you’ve lived with that risk of possibly losing him, even without really having him.  
  
You have spent countless nights worrying for his safety. You’ve scolded him repeatedly for being so impulsive, for acting before thinking, for being so damn protective. He’s put his life in danger too many times, and every time you were terrified for him. Every time he put his life on the line, you felt as if a part of your heart was being ripped apart. Never before had you felt that kind of pain and fear, that new vulnerability that comes when you’re in danger of losing someone you love more than you ever thought yourself capable of.  
  
Since leaving Hogwarts and over the course of the hunt, you two have silently been getting closer. Over time there was a newfound sense of closeness, one that gave itself naturally – it was never forced. But even as the awkwardness slipped away, there came a point where Ron put a halt to that closeness, a barrier of sorts that until now you haven’t been able to break.  
  
You feel your eyes watery, and you sadly wipe the tears away. You don’t want to cry now. He’s about to show up and you’re not sure you want to answer his inevitable questions of “What’s wrong?” His voice will surely be filled with that deeply annoying, yet endearing, tone of worry that only shows you how much he really cares. And it drives you crazy to have him show you he cares, and then back away using humor as an easy way out.   
  
Today, you’re not strong enough for another “We can’t right now” or “It’s not the best time for this.” The last time it happened, it truly left you heartbroken. It’s not the kind of heartbreak that you felt when you saw him publicly snogging Lavender. No. That had been humiliating; it was more of a profound disappointment that he had chosen her over you after you had laid your heart on the line. This kind of heartbreak is different, deeper. It hurts much more, and it leaves you feeling empty.  
  
The past December you three had been up in North Wales following a clue, completely determined not to return to London until that particular Horcrux had been destroyed. That one time your research had proved unreliable, for there had been no sign of Dark Magic anywhere. Tired and cranky, you had insisted on spending the night at a small hotel before returning to London the next morning. You were not up for more traveling that night, and Ron and Harry must have felt the same because they didn’t give you much of an argument.  
  
As you three walked into a Wizard’s pub to get something to eat, your eyes immediately fell on a discarded copy of the _Daily Prophet_. The paper’s headlines had made you gasp in horror. _  
  
**Death Eaters Attack King’s Cross Station  
**_  
You immediately searched for a date and names, hoping against all hope that no one had been fatally injured. The Death Eaters had chosen the exact date when the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to drop off students for their Christmas holiday. That year, no one had wanted to stay at Hogwarts. Time with their family was precious and necessary.  
  
Almost as if it had been written in red sparkling ink, the name _Weasley_ stood out from the rest of the article. You tried in vain to cover up the news, but your earlier gasp had gave it away. Ron and Harry had stood next to you, snatching the paper away from your hands, wanting to read the news with their own eyes. You had no chance to shield them, to soften the blow. Ginny had been badly inured. Harry’s face had gone pale, and Ron’s fist connected with the nearby wall. They both had wanted to Apparate to the Burrow at once, and there was no convincing them otherwise.  
  
That night at the Burrow is still crystal clear in your mind. Once you all had paid Ginny a visit and answered Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s insistent questions regarding your whereabouts, Ron had gone out to the yard with a face that clearly said, “Stay away.”  
  
He was being completely ridiculous. He had to know you weren’t going to “stay away.” You couldn’t, not when he was that upset. So you had followed him into the cold night, and had found him viciously throwing rocks into the icy pond.  
  
You’d wanted to comfort him like he had comforted you during Dumbledore’s funeral; the day you said goodbye to your parents before taking off for the hunt, or during each of the nights you ended up crying from fear, worry, or from your inability to find a missing piece of the puzzle. It was your turn to take care of him. So, you’d embraced him from behind, tightly wrapping your arms around his torso, and murmuring things like, “It’s all right, Ron.”   
  
At first, he had tensed at your touch but relaxed when he understood you weren’t letting go. Then something changed in him. He took your hands that were wrapped around his torso and gave them a small squeeze before letting go and turning around to face you.  
  
You had never seen so much fear in his eyes. Not even in the Department of Mysteries when faced with Death Eaters. And what he said back then constantly plays in your head.  
  
“I’ve never been any good with words, but you… you have to know, what… how I feel. I’ve showed you…” He’d run a hand through his already ruffled hair. “… Acted like a complete fool many times. But you’re smart, the smartest witch, Hermione… you have to know that, er, that I lo- ….know how I feel. Don’t question it.”  
  
You had mumbled a quick “yes” wanting him to continue, thinking that was it. You were wrong.  
  
“But if I let myself act on those feelings. I can’t… we can’t. I don’t want… I can’t lose you. It would break me.”  
  
“But you wouldn’t los-”  
  
“You don’t know that. We’re at war. What happened to Ginny can happen to any one of us, and I couldn’t stand losing you. I just can’t, Hermione. You understand, right?”  
  
You did. You didn’t agree with him, but you understood. Unlike him, you felt that being together would make you stronger to face whatever dangers lay ahead. But you knew that even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to change his mind. Not back then. He’s stubborn, always has been, completely stubborn.  
  
A faint _crack_ brings you back to the present. You know that has to be Ron, who’s surely just Apparated outside your door. You take a long breath and put aside that overdue melancholy that has taken hold of you today.  
  
“I knew it was you,” you say as you open the door wide.  
  
“Hello.” He smiles widely and leans down to kiss your cheek. Despite the coldness of his lips, you can feel the warmth of his kiss. “Here.” He hands you a small cardboard box. “I thought we could organize these pictures together before showing them to Harry tomorrow.”  
  
“Sure. I have a pile of pictures, too.” You point to a small stack sitting in the coffee table. “Sit down.”  
  
He takes a look at the first picture in your pile. “I had never seen this one.” He holds up a picture of the three of you in a compartment inside the Hogwarts Express. “How did you get it?”  
  
You love that picture. It was taken on the journey back to King’s Cross at the end of your second year. “Colin gave it to me when _you_ and Harry weren’t speaking to me during that time in third year. He thought it would remind me of better times.”  
  
You see a faint blush rising in his cheeks, and it makes you smile. “Sorry about that.”  
  
“It’s forgotten. Look at this one, in Diagon Alley.”  
  
“You were so tiny back then.”  
  
You giggle. “Not just _me_ … look at you and Harry.”  
  
“Hey, I was never tiny.” He flips through the stack of his own pictures and takes out one. “Look at this one. I found it in Percy’s old room.”  
  
You clasp you hand over your mouth, trying to quiet down your squeal. It’s another picture of the three of you. It’s taken in the Great Hall during your first year, right after winning the House Cup thanks to those extra points Dumbledore awarded each of you after saving the Philosopher’s Stone. You three are smiling, cheering and there’s a moment when Ron quickly pats your back as he hugs you awkwardly. “I want to keep this one, can I?”  
  
“Sure,” he says. “After we show it to Harry, it’s all yours.  
  
“So many memories, Ron; he has to remember. How can he not?”  
  
“Maybe it’ll help it along if with each picture we tell him stories of what was happening during the time.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“With this one…” He hands you a picture of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. “We could tell him it was taken before Umbridge banished him, Fred, and George from the team.”  
  
“You could also tell him about your practices, and how he caught the Snitch to win that first game.”  
  
“But there are plenty of better stories.” He waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Why don’t _you_ tell him why you kissed me before my first game?”  
  
“It was for luck,” you say in the most matter-of-fact tone you can muster. “Besides the stories we tell him should be about him, not you or me.”  
  
“We’re his best mates; he’ll want to know about us too.”  
  
“Maybe, but we should mostly tell him about him. Oh, and about Ginny. I’m sure he’ll want to hear about her. We can tell him how he saved her from the Basilisk, or how he kissed her in front of the whole Gryffindor common room.”  
  
“Nah, we’ll let Ginny tell him those stories. Here’s one of the Yule Ball. Those dress robes were just awful.”  
  
“They weren’t that bad.”  
  
“Not _that_ bad? You’ve got to be kidding. They were horrid, and I had the worst time.”  
  
“That’s because you didn’t let yourself have a good time. You were in a bad mood most of the night.” You roll your eyes remembering Ron sitting lazily in his chair during the Ball. “You could have danced with Padma.”  
  
“No. I don’t dance. And you _know_ why I was in such a bad mood. You and Krum were having a dainty good time, weren’t you? And you looked so gorgeous, and you were my best friend and I couldn’t understand why I was so upset.”  
  
Heat rises to your cheeks. “Forget about Viktor already. It was the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion that made me look different, that’s all. And yes, you _do_ dance. We danced at Bill’s wedding last summer, remember?”  
  
“That was different. It was _you_ ; I can dance with you… but just _you_.”  
  
He’s being awfully flirty today, and you’re not sure how far he’ll take it before backing down. You bite your lip, and swallow hard. “What other pictures you have there?”  
  
“I have lots of pictures of us at the Burrow during family meals, playing Quidditch or Wizards’ chess… and this one of you reading.” He takes the stack of pictures and spreads them over the coffee table.   
  
The one he’s pointing at has you sitting in cozy chair near the fire, flipping through the pages of a particularly heavy book. A Muggle photograph would show only that, but because it a moving magical one it shows you biting your lower lip and your eyes fixed on something other than the book.  
  
“What were you looking at, Hermione?”  
  
“You.”  
  
“Me? Why?”  
  
“Oh, Ron, you should know that by now.”  
  
He looks away and busies himself with more pictures, ignoring the underlying meaning of your words. The melancholy you felt earlier returns with a heavy force, and you decide right now that you’re not going to wait anymore.   
  
You know there are risks involved when you fall in love with your best friend, but you’re willing to take them. You stopped being afraid when you realized that you’re more afraid of never knowing him as more than a friend. You’re determined to break down those barriers he puts up. You know he loves you. You can feel it when he talks. You can see it in his eyes. You’ve got to at least try.  
  
“You don’t get it, do you?”  
  
“What?”  
  
You make him turn around and face you. “Seeing all this pictures brings back so many memories, Ron. All the things we’ve lived through… _together_.”   
  
“I know.”  
  
“It seems right now that all I’ve ever done in my life is making my way here to you.” You meet his eyes and hold his chin, making sure he doesn’t look away. “And for what? We keep dancing around each other, keep putting things off. This, whatever it is between us, is not enough anymore.”  
  
He looks at you with something that appears to be longing. “Hermione, I thought we’d agreed.”  
  
Your voice rises. “Agreed? When exactly did _we_ agree on anything? You’ve decided for us, not me. Everything between us has always been up in the air, ignored, or brushed aside until a better time. I don’t want that anymore.”  
  
“Wh…what do you want?”  
  
“We might both be Gryffindors, but we have always been afraid of _us_ … of taking the risk of being more than friends. I want you to stop being afraid.”  
  
“I’m not afraid; I just don’t want to lose you.”  
  
“Don’t you think you might end up losing me regardless?”  
  
He winces and gapes at you. “What? Why?”  
  
You know that what you’ve just said is harsh, and you don’t totally mean it. “I don’t know, Ron. I’m just tired of waiting. I’m tired of knowing we love each other… because I _know_ it… but not doing anything about it. Don’t you think we deserve to give _us_ a chance?”  
  
He keeps quiet for a long time, and now you’re afraid you might have pushed him away even farther. What did you do?  
  
“You think we’d be good together?” He surprises you with a high-pitched voice.  
  
You smile widely and hold both of his hands in yours. “I’m certain.”  
  
“And, we’d always be there for each other?”  
  
“Of course. We’ve been doing that all along.”  
  
“But our rows are usually pretty bad… what if we fight and can’t make up? We would be losing much more than a friendship.”  
  
Oh, he needs re-assurance. You can give him that. It’s something you’ve wondered many times. “I know we have a lot to learn, a lot of things to work on…but I believe we can do it, don’t you?”  
  
He nods, and there is a small twitching of his lips that gives away to a genuine smile. His eyes are now bright, lit with something like anticipation. “I believe in _you_.”  
  
“Good, I believe in you too. I believe in _us_.”  
  
He scoots closer, much closer. His strong legs are touching yours, and you feel goose bumps all over your skin. “Yeah?”  
  
“Hmm, hmm.” His nearness is intoxicating. All you want now is to taste those lips, taste him. His hand travels up to the nape of your neck, and you can feel his breath on your skin. Any coherent thought is gone when he closes the distance and finally kisses you.  
  
It’s just a brush of his lips, but it leaves you wanting more.   
  
“Is that all right?” he asks.  
  
How can he even doubt it? Yes, it’s plenty all right. You hold his face in between your hands and cover his mouth with yours in response. He seems to understand because it doesn’t take him long to kiss you back, and now it’s completely different.   
  
Gone is the initial hesitancy, the soft touch of lips as they carefully taste new waters. Now, his tongue sweeps along your bottom lip asking for entrance, which you gladly grant. You let out a grateful moan as your tongue battles with his, trying to get familiar with each other, with the newness of it all.  
  
You pull apart panting, and you look at him with new eyes. He looks so different to you now, but so Ron nonetheless. His hair is ruffled, his eyes are dark, and his lips are swollen. You did that; you can barely believe it.  
  
“Wow,” he says.  
  
“I know,” you croak, your voice full of emotion.   
  
He plays with a loose curl and looks at you with such adoration that it takes your breath away. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, Mione.”  
  
You laugh happily, thrilled that it finally happened. “I think I do. I’m the one who’s been waiting.”  
  
“I was prat, I know, but-”  
  
You cut him off with a series of kisses. You don’t need any more explanations; those are all part of the past. Your present is _him_ , right now; that’s all it matters. You kiss all over his face, his neck, his nose, his eyes, and start a trail of butterfly kisses across his lips.   
  
He cups your face, keeping you within reach, and nibbles on your lips before kissing you hard. “I don’t think I can stop myself,” he mumbles between kisses.  
  
“Then don’t,” you say boldly, and you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him much closer until you feel all his body pressed against yours.   
  
You don’t really know how long you stay wrapped around each other; giving, taking, exploring with kisses and tentative touches. Somewhere along the way you spread yourself on top of Ron. He’s keeping you there with a strong hold on your waist.   
  
“I quite like this… having you here.”  
  
“I bet you do,” you say, but pull up straight to calm your racing heart. You try to smooth down your hair primly. It’s no use.   
  
Ron laughs and engulfs you in a lingering hug. “I can say it now,” he murmurs into your neck.  
  
“Say what?”  
  
“I’ve been close to saying it before, but it was never the right moment.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“I love you, Hermione. I reckon I’ve loved you for a long time.”  
  
“I love you too, so much.”  
  
“This is it for me,” he adds with such sincerity that you’re not sure your heart can take much more happiness.  
  
“Me too. I don’t want anyone else, ever. Only you.”  
  
“Good, ‘cause I’m not letting you go. I’m going to take care of you.”  
  
“We can take care of each other.”  
  
He scrunches up his eyebrows thoughtfully. “You think Harry’ll be happy for us?”  
  
“I reckon so, when he remembers who we are.”  
  
“He will.”  
  
“I hope so.”  
  
“I know so.”  
  
“How can you be so sure?”  
  
He shrugs his shoulders. “I just know it. I believe it. I refuse to accept it any other way. We’ll help him remember, and we’ll bug Litcott until he finds the right treatment. And when we wakes up, we’ll tell him all about how you couldn’t resist me anymore.”  
  
You laugh out loud. It’s funny and true all the same. Ron _is_ irresistible. “See, aren’t you glad we cleared everything up? That things are now out in the open?”  
  
“Very happy. Now I don’t have to hold myself back. I can kiss you anytime I want.”  
  
“What are you waiting for, then?”  
  
“Nothing.” He leans to kiss you, and you forget about everything except the red-head in front of you.  
  
***  
  
It was sometime after three in the morning when Ron left your place. You didn’t want to let him go. You wanted to keep him snuggled up against you, and never let go. You spent a lot of time talking, planning for the coming weeks and even months. You’re excited that _your_ plans are now also _his_ plans. There was also plenty of kissing, of exploring. You were somewhat surprised to learn he could elicit, provoke, so much from you. That he could make you feel so much.  
  
Rejuvenated you enter St. Mungos feeling optimistic. Ron is going to meet you here anytime now, and together you two are going to sit in with Harry and do all you can to help him remember. You want his memory back; you want to share this happiness you feel with him. It’s something that’s missing. You and Ron agreed last night that Harry is going to be the first one to know about you two. You wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
“Hello, gorgeous,” Ron whispers in your ear.  
  
You turn around and step up to kiss him. “Hi, Ron. I’ve missed you.”  
  
“Me too. I should have stayed over at you place.”  
  
You nod enthusiastically, and let out a giggle that’s so unlike you. “C’mon, let’s go see Harry.”  
  
“Should we tell him now, or wait until he remembers?”  
  
“Hmm, we can tell him now and then tomorrow and the next day. However many times it takes.”  
  
“All right.”  
  
You enter the lift that takes you and Ron to the fourth floor. Before stepping out of the lift, he kisses your and squeezes you hand. That’s pretty much all you need to start off the day. And although Harry is still lost in another world, you can deal with that a bit better now you have Ron at your side, and you’re not letting him go.  


  



End file.
